Before she steps out of the restroom to join the impending mass, Belit quickly peeks at whatever it is that the dead spacer... "Georg," she realizes, his name the merest whisper on her lips... pressed into her hand before he died. She expects a blade of some sort, her memory of it being hard, smooth, and sharp-edged. Who's gonna die because of this thing? Who am I gonna kill? Please don't let it be Mom, Dad, Marna, or Martin.

---

OOC: Georg is pronounced in the German fashion: GAY-org. EDIT: Spelling correction. Also, Marna and Martin are twins.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:31, Thu 12 Oct 2023.

”The just man, though he die early, shall be at rest. the priest intones,  ”For the age that is honorable comes not with the passing of time.”

Expecting something dangerously elegant, what you find might be a disappointment. A tab of black plastic, circuitry etched into the surface, smeared with Georg’s blood. On a tiny screen on the plastic rectangle there is a blinking number - 606.

You have never seen a device like this before. It’s purpose is not immediately apparent.

Realizing she needs to hide whatever this is really well, Belit ducks back into one of the toilet stalls, pulls a sanitary napkin from her purse, carefully inserts the tab into the napkin, then peels off the the strip covering its adhesive side and presses it into the crotch of her panties. She adjusts her clothing, works herself up to tears... easier, given events of the day... and exits the restroom sniffling into a tissue. I'm so screwed if anyone strip-searches me...

Hope that things doesn’t have a vibrate function…

”We gather today to bid farewell to our brother in Christ, Robert Emerson Leigh” Oddly, the pastor continues speaking after the reading. A glance at the program shows that no family will come forward to eulogize the departed.  Further examination of the room, and the surface emotions you pick up, reveals that most of the mourners appear to be seat fillers from the church or from the funeral home.

”Robert, ‘Bobbie’ to those who knew him well, was an industrious man. An entrepreneur who put the work ethic and experience he gained as a Sergeant in the UWMC to use as an independent operator traversing the space lanes.” he continues. The priest goes on to provide a brief overview of your father’s life, which you may notice remains remarkably thin on detail. The priest does make mention of his bereaved wife, acknowledging Maryanne, who sits alone in the row set aside for family.

Somewhat surprisingly, he also mentions that the departed is survived by a daughter, Belit.

Belit looks up in shock at the mention of her name, wondering if Robert and Maryanne re-used the name as was tradition in some Akiran cultures when a child died young... or was dead to their parents like she was... and gave it to another daughter. Do I out myself despite being an unwanted child. And what if I do? Do I eulogize someone I never met? Would his wife care? Mom and Dad wouldn't understand, but Mart knows how much I need this... what'd she call it? Closure. Yeah. She breathes deeply, exhales audibly, and rises to her feet. She steps into the aisle, half worried she will be noticed, and half not.

---

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lgk5ucvyMH0
This message was last edited by the player at 09:06, Thu 12 Oct 2023.

The ceremony seems to move in slow motion as you rise, take a few tentative steps, then commit to taking the hard road. You could simply sit quietly, get through the service in silence, leave feeling like you filled your familial obligations, tenuous as they are.  But you know that would leave so many things unaddressed.

A sense of confusion and sympathy emanates from the man at the pulpit. He gazes down from the altar with a benevolent smile, and you feel as if he is politely waiting for you to return to your seat.

Seeing you hesitate, but perhaps sensing your resolve to see this through, he nods at you standing in the aisle, and kindly asks, ”Is there something you would like to say young lady? Something you would like to share?”

Belit desperately wishes she could take a hit from her vape to calm her nerves, but does her best to soldier on. I'm the child of a UW Marine, she reminds herself. Oorah. She oscillates between sheepish smile and fidgety frown as she hesitantly tells the man, "Unless... unless I am... very sadly mistaken, I... I believe I... I am the surviving daughter." Belit's cheeks turn a pale rosy shade, a clearly visible blush giving her otherwise-bloodless pallor. "My name... is Belit Ilani."

The priest emanates understanding, sympathy.

The assembled seat fillers are mostly ambivalent, curious or confused.

The woman in black sitting alone in the family row emanates nothing. A complete blank.

A man in a dark suit, gray not black, sitting behind the woman in black is relieved. Like a difficult task has somehow gotten easier.

”You have my sympathies, Ms Ilani.” the priest replies. ”You are welcome to share your thoughts, share a story of your father if you like.”

Belit nods once, slips off her hoodie, and lays it in the pew. She approaches the crossing between the transcepts and stops just before the chancel. Turning, she faces the nave and those in attendance. "I... did not know the deceased," she haltingly begins. "I was... unwell... as a newborn, and my parents discovered... they were not equipped... to deal with my particular... special needs." She fixes her gaze on the stained glass behind the choir loft, at the far end of and above the nave, allowing the color and beauty buoy her. "As they were good and decent people, my parents brought me to others whom they knew would help me as they could not, care for me as they could not, and love me." She lowers her eyes to the woman in black. "I know my parents loved me, because they made certain that I would be looked after. I didn't understand that for a very long time, but I do now and I love them for the courage they displayed in doing something every parent dreads... giving up their child." She rests one hand on the casket and turns her face to address it. "Thank you, Robert...Father... for wishing me the best possible life." She steps forward to the first pew and lowers herself to one knee before the woman there. "And thank you as well, Maryanne. Mother."

---

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q45yicposyI
This message was last edited by the player at 09:16, Thu 12 Oct 2023.

Awesome job! Take 1XP for great character development! Playbook updated.

*dances 'round my shiny new XP*

OOC: Edited soundtrack suggestions into several posts.

”That was as delicate and touching a eulogy as we could expect given the circumstances,” the priest says as he places his hand on your shoulder.

Kneeling, looking up into your mother’s face, seeing her eyes behind the black veil, you come to realize why she is blank, empty, emotionless. Her eyes unfocused, one side of her soft, round features droops, her mouth slightly misshapen, pulled down to one side. She rocks back and forth, muscles quivering slightly, apparently involuntarily.

”Maryanne has not been well,” the priest adds.

Yet, despite the damage to her memory and to her mind, you feel a pull of recognition. It’s fleeting, slips away after barely a moment. Returns, and with it a feeling of tranquility. As if your words, your very presence has lifted a heavy weight from her spirit.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:14, Thu 12 Oct 2023.

That’s a kick ass cover of Don’t Fear the Reaper

Belit chokes up at Maryanne's flickering recognition and reaches out to gather her hands. She caresses them physically as she psychically comforts the woman's wounded spirit. Eventually she asks the priest, in a voice hoarse from crying, "Does... does Maryanne have anyone... to help and love and look after her? Somewhere to live and be cared for?"

Her mind, fragments that reflect shattered memories, is calm. There is peace among the fractured remembrances of a full but often difficult life.

”She is alone,” whispers the gray suited man seated behind Maryanne. ”They had no other children.” he adds, ”Robert set aside enough for her to be well looked after. The estate has sufficient value to cover the expenses of ongoing care. Most of the property has been bequeathed to family offworld, she will relocate to live closer to them. Our firm will hold the accounts in trust to ensure she is provided for.”

Lawyer speak. Gross.

Her face an expressionless mask, Belit replies to the lawyer in a polite tone. "Might I request copies of Robert's will and all documents related to the provisions for Maryanne's care? It would greatly put my mind at ease to know the arrangements are the best possible." She smiles tentatively. "Is it to Robert's family that she would be moving nearer, or her own?"

”Ahem,” the priest said pointedly, indicating that Belit should take her place beside Maryanne. As he started walking back to the pulpit, he began: ”The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want…”, signalling that the funeral service is drawing to a close.

A pair of men appear in the deacon’s doors, emerging from the sanctuary. They wear the long black cloaks of men who manage mortuary services.  As the priest continues, fearing no evil, trusting in the rod and the staff, the men wheel the casket out toward the church doors.

”Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” he said with finality, closing the cover on his datapad and pausing for a long somber moment.  Another attendant comes to collect Maryanne, helping her to her feet.

”You are invited to remain in reflection.” he said retreating through the deacon’s door.

Belit gives Maryanne's hands a parting squeeze as they stand, wishing she could better act on her newfound filial affection. I don't know how I could take care of her, any more than she did me when I was a babe, she sadly thinks. Hell... I'm barely out of nappies by some folks' standards, too young to adequately care for myself let alone anyone else. She retrieves her hoodie from the rearmost pew but sits for a time to partake of the invitation to reflect.

You are able to sit in silence, in disturbed, for a long moment.  The church is quiet, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts.

Watching Maryanne being led out is like watching the summer leaves turn yellow and fall from the trees. There is a certain finality that feels like winter setting in. It’s a hard decision, even though there is really no decision to make. You aren’t equipped to handle her needs. It is best that Maryanne’s last days will be spent with family. She will be looked after.

Resolved to the only real option that’s available, your mind can now turn to other things…

…like the lawyer you sense lingering in the narthex, waiting for you.

Belit rises from the pew and makes her way the short distance to the narthex and the waiting lawyer. "I realize it's horribly old-fashioned, but do you have a business card? I fear I can't exchange information wirelessly, my phone currently needs a charge. If nothing else, I think I have a pen and notepad in my purse."

”Hmmm, I’m afraid that I don’t.” he replies. ”The firm is Mathers, Gilbright and Xylex. We are listed on the planetary directory. It will not be difficult to find us.” he adds. ”You had asked about the arrangements. As a beneficiary of Robert’s estate, I can share those with you.” he says pulling out a portable datapad. ”Perhaps you would prefer that I send you my information then you can check it at your convenience?”

Hang on a second… did he just say beneficiary?

Belit smiles and nods. "Yes, please do. Maglev to ca..." She blinks. Blinks again. Blinks a third time. Wriggles a fingertip in one ear and furrows her eyebrows. She vigorously shakes her head, eyes widening slowly in shock. "Begging your pardon... but... did you say... 'beneficiary'? I don't... don't under... huh? Whowhatwhenwherehowwhy?" She is vaguely aware that her jaw is hanging slack.

”While most of the property has been transferred for disposal with the proceeds of all sales to be placed in trust for Maryanne’s care,” he explains, ”There was one item that was bequeathed to you directly. It was Robert’s wish that you be given this.”

He reaches into his pocket and hands you a small plastic folder. Through the folder, you can feel something solid, symmetrical, rectangular but fairly light.

”I will need a thumbprint to acknowledge acceptance of this property.” he says, passing his datapad to you.

Belit disbelievingly glances back and forth between the datapad and the folder, eyes still wide. Her thoughts practically breaking the lightspeed barrier, she robotically extends her thumb and presses it to the datapad... fumbling and nearly dropping it in the process. The folder is not so lucky. She absently stares at it and extends the datapad to the man. She remembers to say "Thank you," only because she's on autopilot, as she bends forward to retrieve the folder.